


Pick-Me-Up

by TurboToast



Category: Dying Light (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Food, TV reference, gratuitous car porn, the swear jar is full, wrenching montage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 04:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12856953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurboToast/pseuds/TurboToast
Summary: Kyle Crane's life isn't the easiest. 98% of the inhabitants of Harran want to chew his brains out and half of the rest wants him dead. It's about time he gets a break from all the running.





	Pick-Me-Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tafferling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafferling/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Latchkey Hero](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6304081) by [Tafferling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafferling/pseuds/Tafferling). 



> This is a birthday present for Tafferling! Thanks to Slingshot and Rinskiroo for beta reading.

The last few days had been rough—rougher than usual. As if rationing Antizin wasn't already enough, some shady fuck had started preaching bullshit and spreading snake oil around the tower. That wouldn't have been so bad if people had just ignored him. But no, of course some people had to follow him. And of fucking course they had to suddenly take off with a bunch of medical equipment and tools, only to be killed by what remained of Rais' thugs.  
  
Needless to say, Kyle's mood wasn't the best. The industrial areas of Harran weren't exactly easy to travel if you wanted to avoid sharing the streets with the biters. He and the other runners had been sent out to find replacements for all the things that were without a doubt in Rais' tower now. Zofia had insisted on coming with him, against Kyle's protest. She did her best to keep them out of harm's way, zipping from cover to cover, making as little noise as possible. She was good at that sort of thing, Kyle had to admit. He'd earned his fair share of side-eyes and whispered complaints in the form of a hushed "Muppet!" already, so he tried his best to keep his grumbling to himself. It didn't help that he found new things to grumble about every few damn minutes.  
  
It was hot outside; the sun mercilessly burning away in a cloudless sky on this afternoon. The usual sea breeze had decided to take a break today, too. The stench of corpses rotting in the sun hung in the air way too persistently. Kyle thought that by this point he would've become used to it, but no. He didn't. Today was going to be one of those days. Great. Just fucking great.  
  
Zofia tugged on his shirt and immediately wiped her hand on his pants, because it was damp with sweat. She gestured towards an unassuming looking auto shop with her brows raised.  
  
"What about it?" Kyle grunted. He didn't mean to.  
  
Zofia rolled her eyes. Again. "Look closer."  
  
Kyle scanned the courtyard that was surrounded by a very sturdy looking metal fence with vertical bars topped with a roll of barbed wire. The gate looked intact; it was all tidy and clean—nothing special.  
  
That is, if they weren't in the middle of a damn zombie apocalypse right now.  
  
He tousled Zofia's hair, which made her puff her cheeks in feigned annoyance. "Glad you came with, Fi," he said. "Let's see if we can get in there."  
  
That earned a somewhat enthusiastic nod.  
  
They made their way around the fence, towards the gate. It had scratches and paint marks around hip height. Probably someone with a truck trying to bash their way in. Kyle inspected the hinges on the other side. His hands and arms wouldn't fit between the bars.  
  
"Fi... Can you reach through there?" he asked.  
  
She stuck her hand through the bars and nodded.  
  
"Okay..." He paused to poke around in his bag for the correct box wrench. "Can you try unscrewing the hinges?"  
  
Another nod. She braced herself against the gate and suppressed a groan as she loosened the sizable bolt nuts holding the obstruction in place. Zofia put them in Kyle's hand and looked up to the upper hinge.  
  
"I'll lift you," he said.  
  
Zofia was light as a feather, but that didn't mean that her heels digging into his chest didn't hurt. Kyle sucked it up. Sucking it up seemed to be his profession these days. The upper hinge took a bit longer, but soon, that bolt was out, too. Luckily, the gate didn't crash to the ground.  
  
When they pushed against it, one wing of the gate gave way with a faint metallic croak. Tension fell off their bodies like a heavy backpack after a day of hiking. The biters on the other side of the road shambled about just as clueless as before. The gate was quickly closed and bolted shut again, this time from the inside. It had done a good job of keeping thugs and biters out until now; it would do a good job again. At least, Kyle hoped that it would.  
  
Soon, they stood below a subdued metal sign. 'Al Kheder Special Vehicles', it read. That seemed promising. With a sturdy fence between him and the next thing that wanted to kill him, and with the prospect of actually finding something useful, Kyle's mood improved noticeably. Still, they couldn't let their guard down. They didn't know what was waiting inside the grey building, behind its tall roller doors. At least there weren't any groans or sounds of feet shuffling on the ground coming from inside, so that was something.  
  
The front door was made of frosted glass. No stains. Thank fuck. Kyle got out his crowbar and lowered his stance a little, preparing to either jump at or away from any potential threat. He took a glance at Zofia, who already had her bow out. Her brows were furrowed, as they were so often. She nudged her head towards the door.  
  
He took a deep breath and tried pushing the door open. It wouldn't budge, because of course it wouldn't. Letting out a sigh, he got out his lock picks and squatted down in front of the door. Luckily, it wasn't one of those modern locks. Still a pain. He could've just smashed the glass, but then nasty things could get in once they were inside.  
  
A few minutes and a few dollars for the swear jar later, the lock opened with a soft click. Kyle mentally prepared for an alarm to start blaring, but the building stayed silent. He raised his crowbar again. He'd grown attached to it. Maybe a bit too much. People in the tower were talking about "that guy with the crowbar" and some had even nicknamed his tool of choice a ‘cranebar’.  
  
The door swung open. It had a door closer and it didn't make a sound. The inside was a lot fancier than the outside let on — nice wooden furniture, brushed aluminum, shiny suspension parts displayed on the wall... No doubt this place was where people would go if they had a couple grand burning a hole in their pocket and wanted to go fast.  
  
Kyle switched his flashlight on. There were windows, but the shutters were closed and he'd rather not alert anyone that someone was in here now, thank you very much. It was eerily silent and Kyle listened for every little noise. It wasn't even the silence itself that was making him nervous, it was the uncertainty of something lurking in the dark.  
  
Zofia winced as Kyle shone his light into what appeared to be an office. There was a corpse sitting at the desk, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. A man in his late fifties, wearing shop coveralls. He had a well-kept beard and a hole in his temple. An old revolver lay on the ground next to him and an empty whiskey glass stood on the desk in front of him.  
  
"Took the easy way out, huh," Kyle said.  
  
The paper tiger offered a weak nod and carefully stepped around the desk. There was a shelf behind it with a variety of trophies on it. Some of them had red splotches on them. An old record player connected to a stereo piqued Kyle's interest. He pointed his flashlight at the vinyl.  
  
"Blue Öyster Cult, The Reaper... Not a bad song," he remarked.  
  
Music. Another rarity in today's Harran. The battery life of the average MP3 player was way too short. They were almost like little time capsules, back to when zombies were just a fun concept for horror movies. The reality was a lot less fun and a lot more stinky, just like the guy on the chair. Reluctantly, Kyle patted him down for keys or other useful tidbits and found a key ring. He stepped away from the withering corpse and took a closer look at it. It was labeled with plastic tags: garage, parts storage, front door... All accounted for.  
  
"This is almost too easy. No riddles, no big bastard to fight," Kyle muttered, "so far at least."  
  
"Let's hope it stays that way. Usually it doesn't." Zofia raised her bow again.  
  
Kyle was almost relieved when he heard a raspy groan as they entered the restrooms. He held the heavy door open and looked around carefully, and chuckled when his eyes fell on a toilet stall that had been boarded shut with bits of a pallet. The biter inside shuffled against its walls in a futile attempt to move towards the new arrivals.  
  
“Huh. Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” Kyle said and looked at Zofia, who raised an eyebrow.  
  
He walked towards the stall to take a closer look and the shuffling inside became more frantic. Thankfully, the boards appeared to be sturdy enough to contain the creature.  
  
“Guess we won’t have to worry about this guy.”  
  
Zofia nodded.  
  
The only rooms left to clear were the garage and the kitchen. After a quick look, they didn't find any biters. That was a welcome change for once. Zofia wordlessly pulled a crumpled plastic bag out of her backpack and vanished into the garage. Kyle sighed and decided he'd take care of the kitchen first. He rummaged through the cabinets and scrunched up his nose as he came across various spoiled foods. Some of them looked like they could've still been good if only they'd come here a little earlier. What a waste. He did find a few cans of ravioli and some spices though. It'd been awhile since he had ravioli. A new can opener and a knife sharpener found their way into his bag soon after, along with a nearly untouched roll of trash bags. He ripped one of them off and collected everything that wasn't edible anymore in it. It was bizarre in a morbid way, like he was cleaning up for someone who didn't exist anymore.  
  
He had just set down the bag that was now bulging and stretching from the weight of the waste inside when Zofia came in.  
  
"Hey," she said. She only had her flashlight and bow on her. "Hey, Crane." A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.  
  
"Hm? What's up, Fi?" He was worried for a second, but she would never leave her stuff if she wasn't sure she'd get it back.  
  
"I want to show you something." Quiet as usual, but her fidgeting had an excited quality about it.  
  
"Sure, lemme just finish up here," Kyle said and opened the last cabinet.  
  
He felt like he hit the jackpot. A full pack of toilet paper and two bottles of hand soap. He held both of them up so Zofia could see.  
  
"Check this out. I thought every last fucking pack in Harran was gone," he said triumphantly.  
  
Zofia leaned in the door frame, trying not to grin. "Come with me, muppet."  
  
"Hey, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty excited about being able to wipe my ass properly."  
  
She sighed.  
  
"Alright, I'm coming. Found something good?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.  
  
She tugged on his shirt again, dragging him into the garage. The first thing he saw was a white Volkswagen Golf GTI, and while that was a nice car, it wasn't what Zofia was so excited about. She stopped in front of a huge vehicle under a cover. Four knobby tires poked out from underneath it, almost as tall as Kyle's hips. The vehicle towered over him, easily seven and a half feet tall.  
  
Zofia looked at him with thinly veiled anticipation. "I thought this might be interesting to you," she said.  
  
"Yep, that looks promising," Kyle said and pulled the cover off. It snagged on something for a second before it gave up and fell to the floor.  
  
He had to stand back in appreciation of what was before him. He'd seen this car at his local Ford dealership before, albeit in stock form. This example looked like it could take on the Sahara or a trip through a rainforest and come out at the other end like it was nothing.  
  
The Ford F-150 Raptor had been lifted a few inches and a big camper box had been installed where the bed once was. Its massive, angular metal bumper blended in perfectly with the dark gray paint job. Two raised intake pipes protruded from the hood, snaked their way up the A-pillars and ended on either side of a massive LED light bar. In the middle of the bumper, a winch had been installed.  
  
After walking around it and knocking on the windows, which were made of thick polycarbonate, Kyle tried to open the door. Locked. The clatter of plastic against metal made him whip his head around towards Zofia, who held the keys up in the air.  
  
"Might need this," she deadpanned.  
  
"Fi, you're amazing. Have I told you that lately?" Kyle approached her in a few quick steps and, after a look into her eyes to see if it was okay, kissed her on the forehead. "You're amazing."  
  
The truck's indicators flashed twice, and a rich _clack_ sounded through the workshop. Kyle was quick to jump into the driver's seat and inspected the various buttons and dials. The cockpit had a rugged, but comfortable feel about it. It provided a sense of safety. The gear lever had several gear reduction and differential lock settings, and just as he figured out what those did, Zofia gave the hood release handle next to his leg a quick pull. Kyle followed her around to the front of the truck.  
  
The giant hood dwarfed her as she stooped over the engine bay, standing on the bumper. Dirty skylights made the workshop just bright enough to see, but she curiously inspected every nook and cranny of the engine bay.  
  
"What are you looking for?" Kyle asked.  
  
"Problems," came the dry answer. A smile hushed over her face. "Haven't found any yet. Not much stock in here though." She pulled out the dipstick and sure enough, there was oil shimmering on its end.  
  
Leaving Kyle alone with the truck, she jumped off the bumper and went to check every door of the workshop, before she came back, trying to hide the eagerness in her eyes.  
  
"Wanna see if it runs?" Kyle asked. He already knew the answer.  
  
Zofia threw him the keys and climbed back on the bumper. It was rare for her to be this enthusiastic about something. Maybe this day wasn't so bad after all.  
  
Kyle turned the key. After a few whining turns by the starter motor and a BUILT FORD TOUGH animation finished playing on the dashboard, the V6 Zofia was hunched over filled the workshop with a sedate and smooth purr. He revved it up a little—the engine not stressed in the slightest. The blow-off valves under the hood gave a businesslike _pshhh_ when he lifted his foot, not bragging about power. Just enough that anyone with an interest in engines would nod in appreciation.  
  
He shut it off again.  
  
"Everything okay?" he asked.  
  
Zofia's head appeared just below his window, nodding. "Fuel?"  
  
"Uhh..." He turned the ignition on again. The animation played, again, already getting on his nerves. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, but damn. "Yep. Tank's full."  
  
The head of tousled hair disappeared from his window and popped back up on the other side when Zofia climbed into the passenger seat. It was almost twice as wide as her.  
  
"Wanna check out the rear?" Kyle asked.  
  
Another nod. And eyes rolling. What was that fo—Oh.  
  
The door to the camper box on the back was too narrow for Kyle to walk through normally. Once inside, it was surprisingly roomy. There was a bed, a shower, a gas stove, a TV - and a lit up panel on the wall right above the light switch that indicated an almost full battery. Kyle's mouth pulled into a wide grin.  
  
"Hey Fi." She poked her head in under his elbow. "Check this out." Kyle flicked the switch, and the whole cabin lit up in warm, white light.  
  
She shimmied past him, her eyes beaming with curiosity. Slightly hesitant at first, she opened drawers and the closet, which still had a coat hanging in it. Then she sat on the bed and almost reluctantly let herself fall into it, like it could spring shut like a mouse trap.  
  
Kyle let himself fall on the bed next to her. "Not too bad for a camper, huh."  
  
"Hmm." Zofia rested her head on his arm.  
  
"What's in that drawer under the TV?"  
  
"DVDs." She closed her eyes.  
  
Kyle's eyes widened and he sprung up, almost hitting his head on a cupboard. "DVDs? Fi, we have a TV and power. Come on, we gotta use this."  
  
A look inside the drawer gave him a better idea though. For now.  
  
A-Team DVDs.  
  
A really stupid idea crept into his head, made itself comfortable and taunted him until he gave in.  
  
He scratched his head. "Um." Pause. Zofia sat up. "Want to make this thing zombie-proof? Saw a small generator and a welder in the shop."  
  
She fell back into the mattress. A moment passed in which Kyle almost prayed that she'd be up for it.  
  
"Like in those montages where Hannibal's plan is making a tank out of grandma's old car?"  
  
"Exactly like that," Kyle said with a stupid grin on his face.  
  
He'd dreamed of doing this since he was a little boy. He'd shrugged it off like all the other action hero fantasies little boys go through. But looking at what he was doing now... He was a grown man, jumping across rooftops and chopping off zombie heads. As if he'd go ' _Nah, that's childish_ ' on the opportunity to build a zombie apocalypse car. What was being an adult supposed to be anyways? He felt like a little boy scared for his life half the time, and somehow he still ended up alive and... not exactly well, but c'mon, you couldn't have everything.  
  
Right now, he _could_ have a zombie apocalypse truck though.  
  
Zofia stood up. "What's your plan?"  
  
That got him scratching his head. "Well, find things to protect the windshield with and then think about how to make running over biters easier?"  
  
"Sounds good. What about the Tower?"  
  
"I'll radio them." Kyle stepped out of the camper.  
  
They wouldn't be able to make it back that day, and judging from the light pouring through the skylights, they'd have to work quickly if they wanted to get anything done with the truck.  
  
Lena answered the radio. No, they wouldn't be back by this evening. Yes, they did find supplies. Thank fuck. Yes, they were fine. Yes, they would be back by tomorrow. In that truck over there hopefully. Yes, in a damn truck. Yes, maybe they were a bit crazy. Yes, he was pretty damn sure they were safe for the night. Somehow, the tireless nurse reminded him of his mom.  
  
Zofia found a collection of power tools on a charging station and let an angle grinder spin up. "Battery's full," she said.  
  
"Sweet! Just gotta find some stuff we can use that the biters won't like."  
  
The search didn't take long. The shop had a large supply of sheet metal of varying strengths and a tall construction fence leaning against a shelf. Good enough. After some rummaging, he found some bolts and a die, too. Zofia's tilted head and the angle grinder in her hand gave him an idea. He opened a few drawers and sure enough, there was a marker that could draw a nice and steady line on some metal. The thickest sheet metal he found looked about sturdy enough to withstand some serious abuse, so he dragged it over to a workbench. Eyeballing the truck's metal bumper, Kyle shrugged before drawing a line on the bare metal.  
  
"What do you think of sawing this off and screwing it to the bumper? Then we could sharpen it," Kyle said.  
  
Zofia shrugged, and soon sparks flew everywhere as she held the sheet in place for him to cut the metal to size. A few adjustments later, it was mocked up to the bumper for the first time. It fit reasonably well, and with a sharp edge, it could do some serious damage. Not that getting run over by a three-ton truck didn't do any in the first place. It wasn't long before holes were drilled, threads were tapped, and bolts were tightened. Kyle gave the makeshift bumper blade a testing kick, and much to his satisfaction, it didn't budge.  
  
Looking for other things to improve, Kyle wiped some sweat off his forehead and walked around the truck. Leftover scraps from the bumper blades would make some nice reinforcements for the rear wheel arches, and the construction fence could prevent the windshield from being smashed in. Maybe. Just needed to cut the ends off, bend it a bit. Yeah, that could work.  
  
Meanwhile, Zofia had found a belt sander and made more sparks fly as she sharpened the blade they just installed.  She was going to be busy with that for a while, so Kyle dragged the welder over with a handful of clamps. A slew of expletives later, he'd stuck a piece of metal to the fender that would hopefully prevent any zombie guts getting stuck in the wheel. Readily available emergency generators were a godsend, especially those with a full tank of gas. When it sputtered to life, it brought back memories of mowing the lawn as a kid. Luxury problems.  
  
"Alright, let's hope this piece of crap doesn't melt," Kyle muttered before he flipped his mask down and started laying down some awkward first beads.  
  
It took a while before his welds became somewhat tidy, but at least his hopes weren't crushed and the fender stayed in shape. The other side looked much better in the end. When he was done marveling at his newfound welding skills, Zofia muttering under her breath caught his attention. Fumbling around replacing the belt on her tool, the creases on her forehead deepened in frustration.  
  
Just when Kyle wanted to hold his hand out offering help, the lever holding the belt on gave way and she looked up at him with that triumphant 'See, I can do it, I don't need you for this' expression she put on often. You got this, Paper Tiger.  
  
Moving on to the windshield, Kyle quickly found a pair of metal shears and began cutting the construction fence to fit. Test fitting it alone would be a problem, though. Dents and bruises in the truck's bodywork would be inevitable outside, but Kyle tried not to damage it. The fence-gone-windshield-protector needed to be bent, too, so Kyle looked around for things that could help him with that. While it probably wasn't the best tool for the job, an old pallet would do fine. He dragged it on top of the fence and stood on it as he hooked his crowbar into the fence and pulled. Creaking under the strain, the fence slowly but surely gave in to Kyle's efforts.  
  
Suddenly, he found himself sitting on his ass though, as the pallet slipped. "Screw my dignity, that worked," he said—Zofia suppressing a snicker. He was pretty sure his dignity was in the red digits when he was done with his bending job.  
  
Soon, the screeching of Zofia's belt sander stopped. With the light coming in from outside fading, they didn't have much time left to weld the fence on. It turned out they didn't need much time though, thankfully. After some percussive engineering and some more welding, it was done. If the truck looked purposeful and maybe a tad menacing before, now it would fit right into a Mad Max movie. Okay, it didn't have a lot of dents and scrapes and blood on it... Yet.  
  
Now that the truck was Harran-ified, Kyle's stomach felt like a bottomless pit. There were potatoes in the kitchen, so hash browns began to look like a really good idea.  
  
He pulled Zofia close; looking at their work, a wry smile forming on his face. "How's that for an arts and crafts project?"  
  
An amused huff was her answer.  
  
"I'm starving, wanna test the camper out?" he asked.  
  
"What's on the menu?"  
  
"I was thinking hash browns."  
  
"Haven't had those in forever."

* * *

 

A few minutes later, the workshop was filled with the smell of fried potatoes sizzling in a pan and the muffled sound of the A-Team theme song. Kyle found himself lounging on the bed with a plate on his lap and Zofia next to him. On the flatscreen, Jeeps flipped through the air and exploded theatrically. Faceman got the girl and Hannibal had a cigar in his mouth, grinning wide.  
  
Not a bad day. Not a bad day at all.  
  
Kyle woke up to the sound of seagulls cawing outside. Sitting up, he immediately banged his head on a cupboard. Oh right, camper truck. Gotta load up and get it to the tower in one piece. He fired on all cylinders surprisingly quick today. Even without UV lights, they hadn't been eaten overnight. It had been remarkably calm.  
  
Zofia was curled up in a corner of the bed, making Kyle wonder how the heck that was comfortable. He slid off the bed and into his pants, careful not to disturb her. Didn't work, of course.  
  
She squinted at him with tired eyes. "Morning, muppet," she said.  
  
"Morning, Fi." His shoulders protested as he pulled his t-shirt on. "We're gonna have to drive a bit today. Provided the traffic isn't too bad."  
  
Zofia's head fell back onto the mattress, too tired to laugh or groan at his joke. Stale and warm, the bottled water he found in the kitchen wasn't really a pleasure to drink, but at least it was clean and they still had a lot of it. Kyle tossed Zofia a bottle.  
  
Soon after, the truck's camper box was full of tools and supplies. Even a few 20l gas canisters had found their way in there, making Kyle worry about them falling over. The shop gate was rolled up, and suddenly Kyle was very grateful for the shop owner's idea to install barbed wire on top of the fence. Half an arm was stuck in it, with strips of rotting flesh hanging off the fence. A spray of red bits extended from one spot in the barrier, where a bomber had decided to blow itself up. As safe as that fence looked, it was only a matter of time before Harran's rotting inhabitants forced their way inside. He'd rather get out of here as fast as possible.  
  
A few lone biters shuffled around outside far enough from the gate to not cause any immediate trouble.  
  
"Fi, we gotta get the gate open again. Are you coming?" he asked.  
  
She came out of the shop with a cordless screwdriver in hand.  
  
Kyle shot her a smile and walked back inside. "I'll get the truck then."  
  
Without any fuss, the engine hummed into life and Kyle let it prowl into the sunlight. While it sounded sedate, he had to be careful with the loud pedal, as the truck really wanted to go. He parked it at an angle in front of the gate, to get it out as fast as possible without opening it too far. Meanwhile, Zofia was already done with the bottom bolt. The top one followed soon after. Kyle maneuvered the truck outside, but as he jumped out, he shut the door with a little too much energy. A loud whap echoed down the road.  
  
"Fuck. Fi, hand-tight's okay. We gotta go." He lifted her on his shoulders again and tried to watch the biters making a beeline for them.  
  
Zofia almost dropped a nut, but they got into the truck quickly and started making their way through the abandoned cars. Even with the bulky camper box on the back, it was surprisingly nimble. There was a droning roar coming from the knobby tires on the road and a rattle from the cargo in the back, but otherwise, it was silent in the cabin.  
  
"That went well, didn't it?" Kyle said.  
  
"Mhm." Zofia let herself slump in the seat a little. "I think we needed that. Some kind of break."  
  
Kyle hit something squishy on the road. "Yeah. Haven't seen a moving image apart from those fuzzy TV broadcasts in ages."  
  
"I'm not talking about the A-Team, muppet," she huffed.  
  
"Really?" Kyle asked with a smirk on his lips.  
  
After a pause, Zofia sighed. "Okay, maybe a little."  
  
"I'm looking forward to the faces they're gonna make at the tower when we rock up with this thing."  
  
"Someone's going to be a wet blanket about it and be horribly responsible." Zofia had a wistful look on her face.  
  
"Yeah," Kyle sighed. "But let's get there first. There's still that damn bus in the tunnel."

* * *

 

They ran into the thing soon after. A burnt-out bus blocked any vehicle from passing through the tunnel. People had just worked around it—treated it as immovable. Which was true for the most part, with no real trucks in the slums and every other car broken or too weak.  
  
As Kyle approached the tunnel, he was eternally grateful for the metal bumper and LED bars fitted to the Raptor. Dialing in a gear reduction and locking all differentials, he slowly but surely plowed a path through the cars piled up in the tunnel that was now bright as daylight inside. A few lone biters were squished in the avalanche of steel, trying to claw themselves out between twisted metal. It took a bit of reversing and maneuvering, but in the end, the truck stood right in front of the piece of public transportation blocking their path.  
  
"I'll get out and hook the winch up, you watch the mirrors, okay?"  
  
Zofia nodded.  
  
Kyle got out and jogged to the front of the truck. It was almost as tall as the bus. Wasting no time, he pulled the steel cable out and wrapped it around the bus’ roof support. Whoever had smashed the windows had saved Kyle some work. After a probing tug on the cable, Kyle got back into the truck and engaged the reverse gear. The bus creaked and cracked under the force and the truck's tires clawed for grip, but it moved. Inch by inch, the obstacle gave way. Kyle gave it more throttle, and with an ear-shattering screech, the bus jerked towards them. There was a slightly larger than truck-sized gap between the bus and the tunnel wall now, so Kyle got out again to pull the cable back in. What he saw when he arrived at the bus though made him hurry.  
  
A horde of virals was huddled next to a pile of bodies, and the steel cable snapping back onto the winch jolted them to attention.  
  
Kyle ran.  
  
There was still a good distance between him and the crazed mob, but he'd rather not take it easy with them. He slammed the door shut behind him, disengaged the gear reduction and differential locks, and floored it. With a raspy roar accompanied by some high-pitched whistling, the truck lurched forward. Kyle managed to swerve around the bus he just pulled out of the way.  
  
The horde screamed as the massive vehicle barreled towards it, going through the gears one by one. At nearly 100 km/h, the bumper blade made contact.  
  
It cleaved two of the virals apart just below the collarbones with a wet smack and smashed through the rest of them. One of them rolled over the hood and flung off to the side, crashing into a parked car's windshield. The truck, however, was unfazed.  
  
Looking in the mirror, Kyle saw one of the virals make a futile attempt at chasing after them. Luckily, the road ahead was fairly easy to travel, with wrecks strewn about like sprinkles on a birthday cake.  
  
A hearty laugh escaped Kyle's throat and he reached over to tousle Zofia's hair. "Good job sharpening that thing!"  
  
She furrowed her brows. "You bloody bet I did a good job there."  
  
They were almost at the tower now. It threw a long shadow over Harran in the morning, which was interrupted by the truck rolling into it like a second sunrise. The glint of a pair of binoculars high up in the tower meant that they had been spotted. Only a few more turns and they'd arrive.  
  
But it was never that easy, was it. Standing out against the backdrop of Harran's slums, a tall figure stood on the road in front of them. As the truck approached, it spun around with a roar and raised a club made of rebar.  
  
"A fucking goon, now? I'd rather not take that thing on now," Kyle cursed. "Can you radio the tower? I'll try to go through the trench and up the stairs."  
  
Zofia nodded and fished for the radio. "Hello, Tower? This... This is Zofia Sirota. I'm with Crane. Yeah, in that truck." She looked at him and he wiggled his eyebrows. "Yes, he's still a muppet." Hey. "He said he wanted to drive through the trench and up the stairs. Yeah. Later."  
  
"Hold on," Kyle warned her.  
  
The front wheels lost contact with the ground for a second before they smashed into whatever gross shit had accumulated in this trench. Cargo flew all over the place in the rear. Kyle turned the differential locks and gear reduction back on and pointed the truck towards a wooden fence atop the embankment. The tires dug through the mud and threw all sorts of refuse up at the windows, but the truck continued forward stubbornly. They were more laying on their backs in the seats than actually sitting, but the truck moved. Upwards. Finally on even ground again, it obliterated the fence with splinters flying everywhere. Kyle let the windshield wipers do their thing, and now he could see many curious heads popping out of the tower's windows. He could barely resist the urge to use the horn and instead steered the truck up the stairs next to the building.  
  
They had arrived. With a huge grin on his face, Kyle shut the engine off and looked at Zofia, who raised her eyebrows.  
  
“What? We made it,” she deadpanned.  
  
“I love it when a plan comes together!” Kyle was glad he got the sentence out without snickering.  
  
“Muppet.”  
  
They jumped out, locked the doors and made their way inside, where Lena was already waiting.  
  
"You're just completely nuts, aren't you?" she said with a smirk on her face.  
  
"Yep. Guilty as charged," Kyle said. "But now we have a bit of gas, soap, toilet paper, and a whole toolbox. Oh, and a sweet truck." He pulled Zofia in for a hug and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "She found it."

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it! This has been a bit of work, and since I basically got introduced to Dying Light by Taff's amazing [Latchkey Hero](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6304081/chapters/14998354) (which you should absolutely start reading right this second if you haven't yet), the character's behavior is based on what I read there mostly.
> 
> I hope I didn't butcher Zofia, Taff!


End file.
